


Better than Bourbon

by curv



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is 17, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curv/pseuds/curv
Summary: He’d tell you he wasn’t an alcoholic.But he’d also tell you he didn’t need something — anything — to keep his mind off Peter.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 121





	Better than Bourbon

**Author's Note:**

> This is some pretty smutty angst so uh… enjoy.
> 
> Please note this contains themes of internalized homophobia, alcoholism, and self-hate. I try to make it better by the end, but I know what it’s like to be stuck in the middle. If you need someone to talk to, contact the Trevor Project (1-866-488-7386) or feel free to message me (about anything, I’m here for you).

It wasn’t Tony’s fault that he was drunk.

No. It was Peter’s.

He took another sip of his fourth bourbon of the night. He’d only been drinking at the bar for two hours. Needless to say, Tony’s face was starting to feel fuzzy. Like it wasn’t connected to his body. Just the way he wanted it.

It was a welcome relief, being so inebriated. Alcohol was his only companion these days. Unlike Peter.

Tony frowned.

He and Peter had gotten Thanos’s gauntlet off together. It had come off, and Quill had blasted Thanos’s face to oblivion. By the time they were done on Titan, Thanos’s face was pulp. His headless body was left to rot while the heroes returned to Earth on a fucking spaceship. It was the best time of Tony’s life. Utter relief.

But being back to reality? Not so much.

Tony would lie and tell you he wasn’t visiting the bar around the corner from Stark Tower every night, disguised in a baseball cap and dark sunglasses. He’d tell you he wasn’t stumbling home drunk off his ass, blacking out in his room — sometimes the hallway, day after fucking day.

He’d tell you he wasn’t an alcoholic.

But he also tell you he didn’t need something — anything — to keep his mind off Peter.

Not even Pepper had managed to do that, and their wedding was subsequently flushed down the drain along with Tony’s aspirations for the semblance of a normal life.

He’d tell you he wasn’t gay.

Tony took another burning sip of bourbon, wincing as it trickled like sandpaper down his throat. It was high school when he realized he was attracted to men. It was college when he had his first crush on Rhodey, but he didn’t put a finger on those feelings until much later. Being best friends with James was one of the greatest things that had ever happened to him during his period of youthful naive bliss.

But he wasn’t naive now, and he knew what his feelings were for Peter.

Slamming his glass on the counter a little too forcefully, the bartender glanced up at his regular and took the hint to pour him another.

Tony came here because the bartenders didn’t ask questions, and he didn’t have to tell them any fucking thing. He tipped them well enough not to.

Tapping his finger impatiently while he waited for the bartender’s pour, Tony thought about living in Malibu. About his scandalous, effortless, lecherous encounters with so many women he had eventually lost count. 

All he fucking wanted was to be straight.

He thought, maybe…

Maybe if he just fucked enough girls, he’d eventually want to be with one. Marry one. Have kids. Do the house and picket fence, the whole nine yards. Something that would have made his father proud.

But instead, with every pussy, every fucking bare breast squeezed tight in his hand, his discomfort only grew.

Tony took a sip. Number five. 

He thought making headlines as a playboy was a good thing. It meant the media thought he wasn’t gay. He was able to surround himself in that comforting shroud for long enough that he almost started to believe it. His partnership with Pepper made sense, so of course…

Of course he acted like he’d been meaning to propose. They’d be legal partners. It was logical. Pepper was the only woman he’d been able to stand being around for so long, after all. 

But then he met Peter.

And Peter was the only one he ever had on his mind.

After Thanos, after the days spent traveling through spacetime, after everything he and Peter had been through, his feelings became too difficult to ignore. Pepper noticed.

He couldn’t fuck her anymore. Her nagging suspicion — the one she’d had all along — she said it out loud. To Tony. She knew him better than almost everyone, and with this, she wasn’t wrong.

Tony took another, longer, sip.

He’d bawled on the bedroom floor like a fucking baby, and she’d been there to hold him through his confession. That he’d never liked women. That he’d never loved her, never would — not the way she wanted him to.

She had left him.

Tony took a deep breath. Last time, he’d made it to six drinks. He was game to keep up the record. Swirling the liquid in his glass, he watched the sweat bead up on the outside. It fell with gravity, pulling condensation like the tears that had fell from his pathetic fucking face.

Tony didn’t have anyone to talk to. Not now. Not anymore. Not about this.

He absentmindedly watched the baseball game playing on the screen behind the bar. Did people actually like this sport? If he was straight, would he think it was interesting?

Tony laughed, and the two other regulars took sidelong glances at him. Being drunk? No big deal. Being crazy? No go.

Schooling his expression, Tony pulled out his phone and checked for messages. He did this, sometimes. Not expecting, but hoping. For something.

Anything.

There was nothing.

Feeling empty inside, he put his phone back in his pocket. There was no room for disappointment in his void of a heart.

“Yankees aren’t half bad this year, huh?” Tony said, to no one in particular.

The burly guy a few stools from Tony nodded back. A manly response, Tony supposed.

He rubbed his nose, preparing to add something else to spark more of a conversation, when his phone pinged in his pocket.

Raising a drunken eyebrow, Tony pulled his phone back out and checked the screen while sipping his bourbon. 

He could multitask. 

Multitasking meant he wasn’t drunk, right?

Smirking to himself, he opened the unread message. When he realized it was a warning from Friday, his bourbon was quickly abandoned on the counter.

 **Friday:** INTRUDER — FLOOR 17, WING A. Unidentified human. Call for reinforcements? Y/N

Tony furrowed his brows. That was his quarters. What would — who? Why was someone in his room? Distractedly, he quickly sent back _N_. 

He’d deal with this himself.

Dropping $200 by his unfinished drink, he stood and stalked out of the bar without so much as a thank you.

On the sidewalk, Tony activated the nanotechnology of his arc reactor. The Iron Man suit expanded across his body within seconds. 

On cue, Friday chimed in his ear, “Sir, your blood alcohol levels are above legal limits for driving a motor vehicle in the city of New York. Are you sure you wish to proceed?”

Rolling his eyes, Tony replied, “Yes, Friday. All systems go.”

Tensing for liftoff, he activated the suit’s thrusters and made a beeline to Stark Tower.

“Can I get video of this intruder?” Tony asked.

Friday brought up CCTV in his viewpane and narrated, “Intruder detected at 9:03 pm. Unidentified perpetrator entered through balcony doors. Broken glass detected.”

Tony squinted at the video and cursed.

He’d know that lanky gait anywhere.

“Friday, that’s fucking Peter. How do you not know that?”

He maneuvered around the curve of a skyscraper, intending to corkscrew the building. Or at least that was his plan, back when he thought someone actually threatening had managed to break into his wing.

“Sir? Karen has not connected with the server — shall I —”

“No. Shut up. I’ll handle it.”

Friday fell silent. There were times Tony sorely missed Jarvis. Tonight was one of them.

Sighing as he approached the landing pad by his quarters, Tony eased the suit down — or tried to, anyway. He blamed the slight stumble on Friday being momentarily deactivated.

Tony stepped through the broken glass leading to his room before deactivating the suit. Once he crossed the threshold, his helmet dematerialized and he assessed the space without tech-clouded vision.

“Peter?” Tony called.

He crept through his room, mentally making a note to get a bot up here ASAP to clean up the mess and start reconstructing the balcony door.

“Pete?” 

He’d be lying if he told you hope wasn’t blossoming in his chest.

That his quickening heartbeat was merely growing from a place of apprehension. Worry. Concern.

Feelings he _should_ be having. The feelings any man would have for a young protege that had deactivated his Stark-constructed AI to break into his mentor’s rooms. He should be upset. Or at the very least, sad?

He was elated.

“Peter? Hey, I’m not mad, just come out. Let’s talk,” Tony called. 

Tony was beyond his king bed and his private bathroom, wandering into his lounge with big couches, a TV, a pool table. A bar.

Biting his lip, Tony considered pouring another drink. He’d left his bourbon, after all…

That was when he saw Peter.

Or rather, his shoes.

A pair of beat-up Chuck Taylors were twitching from behind the counter of the bar. Tony swallowed, cleared his throat.

“Hey, kid,” he said softly.

The shoes dragged themselves out of sight.

Tony sighed and walked toward the counter, stepped around the bar, and looked down at a forlorn Peter. He was hugging his knees to his chest, Spider-Man mask clenched in his fist, an empty glass of something he’d poured sitting harmlessly at his side.

“Hi, Tony,” Peter murmured.

Tony crouched down next to Peter, half his mind stuck on the thought of pouring a drink. The other, stronger half, told him that Peter was more important than booze.

“If you wanted to see me, there are more convenient ways than breaking through bulletproof glass,” Tony joked.

Peter rubbed his chin on his jeans.

“Nah,” Peter said with an exaggerated frown. He shook his head, back and forth, “Nope.”

Tony furrowed his brows, “You drunk, kid?”

Peter smirked and failed to hide it. 

“No,” he lied. 

“Ahuh. And what’s your poison?”

“Um… vodka,” Peter smiled sheepishly.

“How much have you had?” Tony asked.

“Like… not that much.”

“How much is _not that much_?”

“Like… um… I dunno, two bottles?” Peter shrugged.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

What a pickle. The two of them, drunk? And Peter a fucking teenager, for chrissake.

Peter would be the death of him, someday. Speaking of which, thank god Peter had super-healing abilities, or else he’d be talking to a corpse right now.

“How are you feeling? Did you swing here?” Tony pried.

“Yes.”

Tony sighed and lowered himself to sit next to Peter.

“Something on your mind?”

“No,” Peter said. His voice quivered on the word, and Tony knew him well enough to hear it.

“Tell me,” Tony insisted. 

Something in his tone made Peter suddenly sob.

Tony wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders, holding him to his side while Peter cried. He would give anything to stop Peter from crying, but he also would have given anything this morning to see Peter tonight…. under any circumstances. Feeling happy to have him here, even upset, did not make Tony feel any less like a giant piece of shit.

“I missed you,” Peter said.

Tony’s eyes grew wide, but he managed to keep his reaction limited to that.

“You can talk to me any time, Peter,” Tony said. He was trying to comfort him, rubbing Peter’s shoulder to lend reassurance.

“You don’t… you don’t _talk_ _to me_ , though,” Peter’s voice cracked. “We haven’t seen each other since Thanos. And all the texts I send, you ignore.”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” Peter insisted. “You do ignore them. One-word answers don’t count.”

Tony sighed.

“I _need you_ , Tony,” Peter said.

Tony’s heart was in his throat. The only thing he could do was hold Peter while he continued to talk.

“I’m going through a lot right now, and you’re the only one I feel like I can talk to. You’re the only one that will understand. I mean, not just—I can’t—okay, you won’t understand everything, but I just—”

Peter started crying harder. 

His voice came out as a gravelly, anguished whisper.

“—I think I’m gay, Tony,” Peter confessed. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

Tony almost felt the onset of a panic attack, but he held it together. He forced every ounce of emotion down, under control, into a box in the back of his brain, while holding Peter. For Peter. He needed to help Peter.

“Peter…” Tony said, only tenderness conveyed in his voice, a gentle hold on Peter’s shoulder the only touch he could provide to show him he was there.

“I’m disgusting,” Peter said.

“No.”

“I am—don’t try to convince me I’m not, I know everyone is going to hate me.”

Choking up, Tony said, “Peter, no one will hate you. You’re not disgusting.”

Tony could feel Peter’s tears soaking through the fabric of his t-shirt.

“I just want to be like you,” Peter sobbed.

“You already are. More than you know,” Tony whispered.

“How can you say that, Tony? You’re perfect. You have everything. Tony, just… tell me how to fix it. I need you to fix it. Make me normal. Make it stop.”

“You can’t, Pete.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve tried.”

Peter hiccupped. Picked up his head. Blinked. “What?”

“I’ve tried, Peter. You can’t stop it. You can’t change.”

“Tony, what are you talking about?” 

Peter looked so adorable when he was confused.

This topic was also scaring Tony half to death.

Deciding it was time for a drink after all, Tony pulled away. He stood, using his favorite glass for a generous pour of bourbon. As soon as he took a sip, his fortitude was renewed. He convinced himself it was easy to keep everything bottled up inside.

His father might’ve been proud of him after all, Tony thought to himself.

“Peter,” Tony said, adopting his usual commanding air of nonchalance, “I’m gay.”

Was this really the first time he’d said this to anyone?

He was coming out to a seventeen-year-old?

Jesus fuck.

Peter was speechless. He gaped like a fish at Tony, opening and closing his jaw over and over, before finally he said, “Is that why… with Pepper?”

Right to the quick.

Tony hummed a pained, “Mmhm.” 

He took another burning sip. There was a long silence.

“Can I have some?” Peter finally asked.

Snapping back to reality, Tony replied decisively, “No.”

“But…” 

“No, Peter. In fact, it’s late. You should go to bed. You know where the guest room is?”

Peter frowned.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Tony looked exasperated.

“You’re brushing me off like you always do. This is exactly why I came here in the first place.”

“I thought you broke in here just to come out to me,” Tony smirked. He could, and would, cover up all of his pain and fear with sarcasm.

“Maybe I did,” Peter challenged, finally standing. They were almost equal height, and it unnerved Tony to realize how even of a playing field they were actually on.

Tony watched Peter warily, unsure of how to handle the situation. 

Peter wiped the last of his tears away with the back of his hand, some renewed confidence burning within him that compelled him to say, “I _missed you_ , Tony. Do you not know how to read between the lines?”

It was Tony’s turn to act speechless.

Tentatively, Peter reached out to touch Tony’s cheek with his fingertips.

He’d be lying if he told you the touch didn’t feel like an electric shock to his nervous system. 

Like air to a drowning man. 

Sight to a blind man. 

Love to a man who’d felt he never could be loved.

He couldn’t ignore Peter now, not even if he wanted to.

Voice barely above a whisper, Tony said, “I missed you too, Peter.”

Peter smiled. 

And then they kissed.

Tony could no longer tell which way was up. He vaguely heard the sound of his glass of bourbon shattering against the floor. Because he’d dropped it, of course. His hands had moved like magnets to Peter, and there was no place for glass between magnets.

Stumbling into the kiss, he moved them back into the solidness of the wall, holding Peter tight. Their lips moved against each other. Tony felt fire flooding his veins, felt like his heart might fail because it was beating so fast, and yet he did not stop.

Peter moaned.

He was in heaven and Peter was his savior. Tony moaned back into this kiss, hands dropping to Peter’s ass and tugging on it by way of signal. Getting the hint, Peter held Tony’s strong shoulders tight and jumped to wrap his legs around him.

Strange, compared to women, how similar making out could be.

And yet.

The bulge between Peter’s thighs was all Tony could think about as his lips left Peter’s to suck gently on his neck. Peter arched into the touch. He rubbed against Tony. 

“Fuck, kid,” Tony cursed against his skin.

Peter held himself up, wedged between Tony and the wall, with one hand wrapped around Tony’s shoulders. The other dropped mischievously between them, and Tony barely registered the feel of his zipper slipping down until Peter's hand wormed its way into the fabric.

Tony moaned as Peter caressed him, bucking into his hand. He squeezed Peter’s ass cheeks and bit his shoulder in response.

Peter’s hand brought his cock out of his pants, and did he—did Peter _moan?_ At the sight of his _dick?_

Tony accepted that he would die. 

His insides clenched while he watched Peter unzip his own jeans, and Tony couldn’t resist reconnecting their lips.

Both of them moaned while Peter wrapped his hand around them. Their cocks, both so _hard_ , so _wet_ with precum, slid against each other in Peter’s loose grip. 

Tony gasped.

This was better than life. Better than death. He had transcended to a new plane.

He ground his hips into Peter’s, thrusting the way he wanted. Slowly. With purpose. The way he wanted to thrust his cock into this sweet, bodacious—

Peter bit Tony’s lip. Tony suddenly realized he’d been holding Peter’s ass in a death grip.

Relaxing his hold infinitesimally, Tony plunged his tongue into Peter’s mouth. All he could think of was fucking him. Lubing Peter up with his fingers, slipping his cock into Peter’s hole, and making Peter scream his name until the sun came up.

He had wanted this more than either of them knew.

But it was…

It was more than that.

“Pete,” Tony panted.

Peter’s hand sped up around them. He pulled Tony’s cock just right, like he knew—of course—like he knew what it would feel like, for Tony. Peter was the only partner Tony had ever had who knew what it felt like to have a cock, too.

“I’m so close, Tony,” Peter whined. “Oh, god.”

“Peter.”

Despite being so close to the edge, Tony was finally able to get Peter’s attention. He looked into Tony’s warm brown eyes as Tony said, “Peter, I want you to know.” 

A brief kiss. Their foreheads pressed together. 

“I’m yours. Always.”

Peter gasped. With the next touch of Tony’s lips, he came between the two of them, oozing cum down both their shafts.

It was messy.

It was glorious.

Tony panted as Peter’s hand stilled, suddenly feeling like his erection was more painful than pleasurable, hoping beyond hope he could remedy it soon.

“Oh, god,” Peter said. His face looked tormented.

“What?”

“Let me—let me down—Tony—”

Tony immediately let Peter’s feet fall to the floor, and he took a step back to give him space. Suddenly self-conscious, Tony tucked himself away and tried to ignore the infectious burning shame radiating from Peter. He could fight it, this time. He could hold the flame to keep the all-too familiar darkness from creeping inside of him. 

Maybe, possibly, he could keep the darkness from engulfing Peter too. He had no choice but to try. 

“Peter, it’s okay,” he said.

Peter wouldn’t meet his eyes. He stood stiffly, clothes arranged to their proper places, arms crossed and defiant.

“Is it?” Peter asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, or this. Us.”

Peter bit his lip, trembling, “But this is wrong. I should want to be with a girl.”

“Says who?”

“I— I don’t— Tony, it’s not right.” 

Tears welled up in his eyes again, and Tony’s heart broke in two.

“Peter, I thought the same thing when I was your age. I was just like you. I told myself I’d close these feelings off and date women like I was expected to. And now look where I am.”

Peter glanced up at Tony, watching him with wary eyes.

“I wasted years of my life with Pepper. I wasted years of _her life_. Our marriage was never going to succeed, and if I had only acknowledged who I am when I was your age maybe all of this fucked up shit could have been avoided. I’m so fucking unhappy I’m an alcoholic. And I get drunk every night trying not to think of how much I’m in love with you.”

Peter blinked.

“You want to be like me? Why? So you can be 48 years old with no one to come home to? Don’t make my mistake, Peter. Choose happiness. And trust me on this one, the only way you’re going to get it is by being true to yourself.”

The tears finally fell down Peter’s cheeks, and Tony took a deep breath to gauge his reaction. Was this the moment? The moment Peter would leave him and never speak to him again?

Peter threw his arms around Tony’s shoulders, sobbing for the second time.

“I love you too, Tony.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Was this a bad time for Tony’s cock to spring back to life? Absolutely.

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, holding him tight. He ignored, as best he could, the tightness in his jeans. 

“You’re everything to me, Pete.”

Calming in his arms, Peter murmured into his neck, “Thank you for being you, Tony.”

“Anytime. Hey. Not to cut this short, can we move to the couch? Probably not good to be standing in all this glass.”

“Right, sure,” Peter snuffled, smiling as he stepped away. He glanced around, not sure which way to go, but followed Tony’s gesture to the next room over furnished with a few couches and a TV.

Tony cleared his throat, adjusting himself as he walked behind Peter and flipped on a few light switches to illuminate the space.

“Are you okay? Do you need water, or anything?”

Peter shook his head.

“Okay. Well, you’re not swinging home tonight.”

They sank down into a couch next to each other.

Tony suggested, “I can get Happy to drive you?”

Peter shook his head again, suddenly shy. Tony marveled at his blushing cheeks.

“Do you maybe wanna stay?”

“Yes,” Peter said quietly.

“Okay, well the guest room is clean, like I was say—”

Peter kissed him.

Mm. 

Tony’s mind short-circuited at the feeling of Peter’s soft lips, softer tongue. His boyish stubble felt so _right_ in the palm of his hand. 

Tony channeled all of his years of expertise into that kiss.

Peter didn’t. 

And Tony loved it.

“Pete,” Tony said, suddenly pulling away, aware of his returned erection.

“We don’t have to, you know, if you’re not ready.”

“Have to what?” Peter asked breathlessly.

“Do anything. Don’t feel—you know… obligated.”

“Tony,” Peter smirked.

“Hm?”

Peter’s voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in to Tony’s ear, “I want to.”

Suddenly, he was straddling Tony on the couch and his second erection of the night was insistently pressing into Tony’s own.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony murmured.

Peter was making out with Tony while pulling at the button of his jeans again. He only fumbled a few times to get the zipper down and had his hands wrapped around Tony’s cock again in an impressively short amount of time.

But it didn’t last.

Pulling away from Tony’s lips, Peter sank to his knees in front of Tony on the couch. He tugged Tony’s jeans down a little, just past his hips, to fully free Tony’s cock and balls.

Tony breathed heavily as the sight unfolding before him. His cock, never one to disappoint, looked amazing so close to Peter’s face.

He gave a guttural moan when Peter licked it.

And another when Peter sucked it into his mouth.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he had been this hard. With a woman, it had never happened. They always praised him for his stamina, but…

Watching Peter do this, he’d be lucky to last another thirty seconds.

Tony couldn’t keep his fingers from carding through Peter’s hair, gently holding the back of Peter’s head as he inexpertly bobbed up and down. He accidentally scraped his teeth on Tony’s shaft, an unpleasant feeling that made Tony twitch involuntarily.

It was still the best blowjob of Tony’s life.

Peter pumped his fist on what he couldn’t fit inside his mouth, slurping precum and licking Tony’s head with a broad tongue. 

It was obscene.

Tony thought he was on the verge of death earlier, but he could truly die at this moment feeling as though he had lived a wonderful life. His cock was heavy and hot, and his breaths were shallow with desire as Peter continued to work his cock.

Peter’s hazel eyes locked with his, and Tony’s pulse sped up. He swallowed thickly watching his cock go in and out of Peter’s mouth. 

It was hypnotizing.

“You’re so fucking hot, Peter,” he moaned.

Peter’s eyelids fluttered shut, and he moaned too. The vibrations went straight into Tony’s dick.

Tony gasped, hips bucking into Peter’s mouth. Peter gagged a little, and the sound only turned him on more.

“Do you know how to deep throat, baby?”

Peter’s eyes went up to his again, and he nodded with Tony’s cock in his mouth.

“Can you try it for me?”

Peter bobbed a few more times, pulling off Tony’s cock, covered with saliva, for a brief reprieve to lick the head. Holding Tony’s cock in his fist, Peter pulled Tony’s shins toward him.

Confused but easily guided, Tony slid his feet together toward Peter. His eyes widened when they connected with Peter’s crotch, who rubbed against his legs wantonly. 

Tony moaned, cursing, as Peter pulled Tony's cock deep into his throat. He was balls deep in Peter’s fucking mouth. Jesus _Christ_.

Fisting his fingers in Peter’s hair, he pulled gently. Peter followed his guidance, and Tony almost lost it. His blood hot as lava, brain and dick both ready to explode, he pumped Peter’s head up and down on his cock. Saliva covered his shaft, and it glistened as it went in and out of Peter's mouth. Peter breathed in on the upstroke and gagged when he went all the way down. He rhythmically canted his hips against Tony’s legs.

Tony’s balls drew up when Peter swallowed around him after a particularly powerful moan. The wet heat of Peter’s mouth and vibrations from his throat were pushing him to the edge. 

Tony tugged on Peter’s head. 

“Pete, I’m gonna…”

Peter pulled up and off, and Tony grasped the base of his cock with one hand as Peter retreated.

His lips were swollen. His eyes were dazed and curious, looking up at Tony. At the sight of his handsome face, Tony firmly stroked himself and came in thick ropes all over Peter’s nose and cheeks. He pulsed harder than he ever had before.

In the aftershocks, he was breathless. And utterly boneless.

Peter smiled up at Tony, curiously dragging a finger through Tony’s semen. Tony watched, in disbelief, as Peter put some in his mouth and swallowed it.

Was this heaven, then?

The part before was… what, purgatory?

Tony laughed, elated, unable to control himself.

“What?” Peter asked shyly.

“You’re incredible,” Tony said, tucking himself back in his pants. “Come back up, I can help you…”

Tony trailed off at the magenta blush that crept across Peter’s face.

“What?”

Peter cleared his throat, using the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe off the rest of Tony’s mess.

“I, um, I did already.”

He stood and guided Tony’s hand to the warm wet spot in the front of his pants.

Tony laughed again, standing to embrace Peter.

They kissed softly, sweetly, no longer in a rush.

Butterflies tickled Tony from the inside, and he cupped Peter’s cheek. 

“Thank you for being my hero tonight,” Tony said.

“Me?” Peter asked, incredulous. “Tony, I broke a door. To your house.”

“It can be fixed,” Tony said. Making eye contact with Peter, he put as much emotion into his face and words as he could muster, afraid of the vulnerability, but for the first time… ready. “Me, on the other hand, I wasn’t so sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!!! I had to take a bit of a break from my in-progress fic Inertia Tensor, but it didn’t get me too far off track. This was really cathartic to write and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
